


i wanna be the one

by corelton



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, im gonna use that term until i die its great, weepypasta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corelton/pseuds/corelton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some one-sided Tajima/Mihashi nonsense. My deepest apologies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wanna be the one

**Author's Note:**

> dj made me write this and lucas made me post this and theyre both bullies and they make me cry every day  
> the title is crap and for that i am sorry. i just hit shuffle on itunes until a vaguely fitting song title came up
> 
> ([mirror on the tumbls](http://kamui-moshiri.tumblr.com/post/96672628972/))

Mihashi is no good at keeping secrets, especially not from his best friend. At least, Tajima is pretty sure he’s Mihashi’s best friend. No one else is as good at calming him down and making him smile when he’s upset or crying. Sakaeguchi can be a help sometimes and Oki can at least offer sincere sympathy, but really, when it comes to putting their nervous pitcher at ease, no one else on the team can boast anything close to the record Tajima proudly holds.

All practice, something is obviously on his mind, Tajima can tell. He keeps turning the ball needlessly in his hands whenever he has it and he keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other whenever he stands idle on the mound. It’s nothing too alarming-- Tajima would be way more concerned if Mihashi was picking at the red seams or avoiding eye contact with everyone, immediate red flags that something is absolutely wrong-- but there is definitely something spinning itself endlessly in his mind. He watches Mihashi from the corner of his eyes as much as he can during practice, though Hanai totally calls him out for staring over at the bullpen during their hitting practice.

“Keep hitting like that and I’ll have the cleanup spot without even trying,” the captain grunts with a slow shake of his head. “What’s up with you today? Your head isn’t in this at all.”

Tajima sets his bat down on the ground, grabs both sides of his helmet and gives his head a hard shake. Hanai is totally right, he’s not focused at all, but he’s not about to admit that the reason he can’t focus is that he’s too busy squinting over at bullpen, trying to decipher what Abe is saying now that makes Mihashi tremble and shake like he’s about to cry. Hanai is a cool guy and a great leader, but he’s not exactly the kind of person Tajima feels would be able to help him sort out the weird jumble that happens in his mind whenever he even tries to think about exactly what it is he feels concerning Mihashi. And he definitely doesn’t want to open that can of worms in the middle of practice.

Besides, he’s pretty sure Hanai doesn’t want to listen to him babble on and on about the way his head and heart can’t seem to function in the presence of Mihashi’s smile. And he is absolutely sure that Hanai doesn’t want to listen to him try to sort through the strong protective feelings that surge through every fiber of his being the moment he sees Mihashi’s shoulders start to tremble and hands curl into small defensive balls. Though maybe Hanai could help him decipher if that surge was something fraternal, as if Mihashi were his little brother, or something less familial. After all, Tajima’s only ever been the little brother, he’s never had someone to look after and protect before-- not that his own two brothers had ever done much to help him; he had never needed it.

It’s probably-- no, definitely-- not brotherly how much Tajima catches himself glancing at Mihashi’s lips though. There’s nothing pure or sibling-like to how often his friend crosses his mind when he lets it wander. Nothing salacious, out of respect for their friendship, but in idle moments, while procrastinating his studies or as he tunes out the commotion of dinner with his family, in between (and really, during) lectures in class, as they part ways after late practices, all through Sundays and days off from school and practice. Frankly, Mihashi is on his mind almost as much as baseball and that’s a bit of a scary realization to be making in this moment.

A rough knock on his helmet drags him away from his jumbled thoughts and Hanai calls out, “Hello? Tajima? Anyone home in there? You’ve been staring into space for a while.”

Tajima squeezes his eyes tight and half-yells, “Sorry!” back at him, moving his mouth into a wide grin that is not nearly as genuine as he hopes it looks. “Guess I was thinking too hard about how to hit from the new machines. I haven’t really figured them out yet, I guess.” He flashes Hanai a thumbs up to let him know that he is now one hundred percent collected and focused on hitting. They don’t pause again until they’re done with the machines and heading in for their end of practice meeting.

Finally, as everyone gathers around the bike racks grumbling about having to walk home after a long practice, Tajima is able to catch a moment to talk with Mihashi. He’d tried to pull him aside in the locker room, but Abe was monopolizing Mihashi’s attention with some mundane strategic stuff. Boring. Now, though, he can ask, “Hey, what’s up?” without making his friend feel like he’s been put in some sort of uncomfortable spotlight.

“Nothing!” Mihashi chirps and Tajima believes him. His feet still shift back and forth as he moves his weight from leg to leg, but there’s no nervous tremble in his hands as he holds them up in excited fists. He flaps his mouth open a few times as he tries to find some words and Tajima patiently waits as he seeks. “I, um, actually have…” he trails off before starting again, “Have a question! For you! Is Tajima-kun--”

“Hey, hey, I told you, call me Yuu! Yuuichirou if you got to, but come on, Ren,” Tajima stresses the name to make his point clear, though his voice is light and peppered with a laugh as he claps Mihashi on the shoulder, “we’ve known each other for, like, ever now. You don’t have’ta be so formal with me!”

The expression that surfaces on Mihashi’s face is plain as day for Tajima, his wide smile and glossy eyes practically screaming that he is so overjoyed that he is allowed to be friendly with a peer-- though he really should have known that by now. Tajima is always reminding Mihashi that they are friends, they are allowed to be goofy and informal.

“Is Yuu-kun--,” (“That’s more like it!”) “--busy on Sunday? Me and my mom are, um, going to the city and she said I could bring a friend if I wanted to so if--” Mihashi pauses to wet his lips, fiddling with his hands as he speaks. “If Ta-- Yuu-kun!! isn’t busy then maybe… could come along?”

Mihashi’s eyes are so bright and eager and Tajima could swear his heart skips a beat as that painfully pure expression is aimed solely at him. Time slows in the same way it does when he’s standing over the plate, bat in hand, staring down the opposing pitcher, and he dares to think-- if only for a split second-- that the fluttering in his stomach in this moment is so much better than any at-bat butterflies he’s felt before. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying as best he can to capture a mental snapshot of this moment and save it forever, even though he’s really swooning over an invitation to hang out with Mihashi and his mom for a day.

He’s jarred out of his silent revelry as he hears a soft, almost concerned, “Y-Yuu-kun?”

“Oh! Sorry!,” Tajima immediately opens his eyes and laughs, slinging an arm around Mihashi’s shoulders. “I was trying to remember if my family is doing anything on Sunday, but I don’t think so. My brother’s wife is knocked up again and probably ready to burst any day now, but it kind’a feels like someone’s always about to have a baby in my family, so no one will care if I’m there or not.”

“Mm, okay! I will let my mom know!” When Mihashi beams at him, the world slows down again and this time Tajima is absolutely sure his heart skipped a beat. There’s no way he could be that close to such a cute face and be completely unphased. Anyone who could is a heartless bastard who feels no joy in the world, probably.

“Oi, Mihashi, come here for a second.” Abe’s flat voice rips through Tajima’s good mood immediately and it doesn’t help when Mihashi jolts straight up and immediately shrinks out of his hold to attend to whatever it is Abe wants to talk about.

Their words don’t register in his mind because he’s too focused on Mihashi’s body language, but whatever it is they’re talking about, it’s nothing good. Though Mihashi clings to every word, his back is so tight and his arms are tucked into his body and it makes Tajima almost kind of sick to see this sudden shift of emotion in his friend. He sees the effort not to cry in the line of his shoulders and he can’t fathom how Mihashi can hold such a reverence for the person who most consistently ruins his mood. Sure, he’s a great catcher, anyone can see that, but, really, he’s not even that great at hitting and he hardly does anything to boost the team’s morale in a tough game and--

Okay, not a good route to go down, Tajima tells himself with a deep frown at his own shoes. He makes sure to clear his expression before looking back up and Mihashi is crouched on the ground with his arms over his head, apologizing profusely for something or other. Something that probably wasn’t even his fault.

Tajima doesn’t even realize his own hands are in fists until the nails are biting into his palms and he feels like his shoulders are practically up to his ears. It’s probably some kind of miracle that no one has noticed his silent fuming and he’s glad for it because how lame would it be to have to admit that he’s mad that Mihashi never apologizes to him like that. It’s not even like he would want Mihashi to apologize to him like that, because that would mean he had miscommunicated with him and knowing something he said had upset his dearest friend would wreck him. He never wanted to be the reason Mihashi was balled up on the floor like this, stuttering ‘sorry’ into his shoes.

It doesn’t help to look at Abe instead. The way Abe’s sour eyes are narrowed and the flat line of his lips upset Tajima so much more. He can tell that the catcher is restraining himself, trying not to yell, and sure, it’s a positive effort, but Tajima can’t fucking believe that he can stand there with such a hard stone face while Mihashi is quivering at his feet. How can he dare to be frustrated when the only reason he holds such an emotional effect over Mihashi is because he reveres every single thing that falls out of Abe's crass mouth?

By the time Tajima manages to pull himself out of the tumultuous thoughts terrorizing his mind, Mihashi is back to standing up, finally unlocking his bike chain, but the tremors of crying are still so obvious in his shoulders and hands. His heart sinks, watching such skilled hands fumble with the combination lock. Not even ten minutes ago, those hands had been squeezed in excited fists, held proudly in front of his chest as he asked Tajima out this weekend.

That’s right, they had been talking about the weekend before Abe had come in and somehow managed to crush two morales without even doing anything but talk about baseball. Tajima surges forward as Mihashi finally gets his combination right and pulls the chain from the spokes of his bike.

He slaps a hand on Mihashi’s shoulder and grins at him, “Hey! Ren! I’ll talk to my mom about Sunday tonight and I’ll text you what she says. I mean I’m sure she’ll say yes, but she might want to talk to your mom or that boring mom crap.”

“R-right!” Mihashi responds, jumping when the hand connects with his shoulder. “I’m excited! For Sunday. It should be-- be fun!” His enthusiasm isn’t quite exactly the same as before, but Tajima wasn’t expecting it to be. Still, it’s a good sign that it’s there at all. It was easy to for people to make Mihashi cry, but it was a lot harder to make him feel better. Not impossible, of course, but it was a slow process that took time.

His eyes are clear now, but the shimmering trails of tears are still visible on Mihashi’s cheeks. It takes every ounce of control in Tajima’s small, impulsive body not to tip forward on his toes and try to kiss them away. He sways on the balls of his feet before stepping back to free his own bike from the rack, putting a much needed distance between his friend and the temptation to make a move he knows he shouldn’t. There’s a short lapse of silence before Tajima remembers they were talking. “Yeah, I’m lookin’ forward to it!”

Mihashi nods, then looks over his shoulder, scanning for something. After a short, surprised peep, he takes off at a jog, calling out, “A-abe-kun! Wait up!”, and nearly loses control of the bike beside himself when he lets go with one hand to wave for the catcher’s attention. Their talk of weekend excitement seems instantly forgotten in favor of catching up with Abe.

A bitter scoff wretches its way out of Tajima’s throat before he could even tell it was coming and in the next second, he’s glad he’s the only one left at the bike rack by now, because he can feel that unwelcome prickling in his eyes. That gross feeling that means he has to pull the sleeve of his school uniform over his hand and scrub roughly at his face until he can catch all the stupid tears that had decided to break free from his eyes against his every wish. Who gave them permission to do that? He certainly didn’t.

His shoulders slump forward and both hands wipe at his wet face and he feels so small and pathetic, standing in the dark, crying big stupid sobs that echo off the cold brick walls.

He feels so small and petty, crying over the fact that he has a big stupid unrequited crush, crying over the guilt that twists in his stomach when he mentally tears Abe down because Abe’s never done anything to him, not actively. All he’s done is somehow manage to be more appealing to Mihashi and that’s not anyone’s fault. He shouldn’t be so upset with a teammate-- a teammate who has shown him so much respect, no less-- who hasn’t even done anything to him.

He feels so small and unimportant, immediately forgotten in Mihashi’s mind despite talking to him seconds ago.

And maybe he is small. He’s a small, tiny little spec of a boy with a big stupid crush and big stupid tears on his face. Though, if feeling small sometimes is the price he has to pay for the big feelings he gets from Mihashi’s rare, heart stopping smile, he can handle feeling small sometimes.

With a loud sniffle, Tajima gives his face one final scrub and wipes away the last of the tears. He doesn’t have time to be milling around moping in the dark. He has to get home and talk to his mom, make sure he actually can go explore the big city with his best friend. Mihashi is probably eagerly awaiting his text, after all.


End file.
